Something Like Love
by Tysoyo Kalli
Summary: Brad is slowly realizing he has feelings for Schudig, but does Schuldig love him back? Some OOCness on Schu's part mainly. Told from Brad's point of view.. Was ment to be a oneshot.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: ........ *twitch* [Beta-reader adds in disclaimer. "She doesn't own Weiss Kreuz. Neither do I, for that matter.]  
  
Time Frame: .. *twitch* sometime.  
  
A/N: First ever WK fanfic. It's 'bout good ol' Brad and Schu. ^^;;  
  
Summary: Brad is slowly realizing he has feelings for Schudig, but does Schuldig love him back? Some OOC-ness on Schu's part mainly. Told from Brad's point of view.  
  
Something Like Love  
  
____________________________________________  
  
I always feel jumpy whenever he's quiet. It's not normal for him to be so. He speaks to make sure he knows what is his thoughts and no one else's. Should I feel sympathy for him? No. No, because that would be helping a fellow man in time of need. The television is on, something I do detest with the utmost hatred.  
  
This quietness shared between the German and myself is quite displeasing. He usually will clamor on and on about something. He seems to be emotionally unstable. His brow is furrowed together, eyes dull and misplaced. He sits, stiff, but not stiff. Almost dead, sitting up with his head cocked to the side. His reddish orange hair falling around his face. Brushing against his paled cheek. So soft, it appears as silk.  
  
Silk. How I do hate that material. So pure, fine, rough, and soft all at the same time. Too precious to people. Made by worms. Who would enjoy wearing that?  
  
Though, most clothing, they have no real value. Nothing.  
  
I wonder, vaguely, if he has taken something to calm the voices that always tend to dwell within his mind.  
  
I do not like how he is acting. He is acting like nothing. Like he is sedated. But then, why would be sedated? He surely isn't acting sedated. He is acting more like he is, well, like he is lost. I wish to lean over and touch him. Make him move. He has sat in that one particular way for more than ten minutes.  
  
Something is nagging at me. Something telling me that this isn't correct. That I should do something about this. He seems to want, need something.  
  
He suddenly moves, jerking his head to me. Glaring almost. But his blue eyes are soft. Filled with something. Water. Tears. Is he crying now? Could he truly cry? Could the tears hold any meaning?  
  
Something twists just below my heart. A feeling in which I have yet to experience in a long time. My eyes dart to the television, fixating themselves on the plump woman talking to the host.  
  
I feel his eyes on me. Studying me. No, he does not study. That is something the scholar does. Study. Study to no dying end. I wonder how he keeps his life intact sometimes. Though, sometimes, I guess that is how I must appear. Always calm. Always in control. But none of them know that I cry myself to sleep almost every night. Unless I have bedded myself with the red-haired German, who sits quietly, watching me, not delighting himself in hearing his own voice being placed across in the open air. To separate his thoughts from other's.  
  
I wonder what his world must be like. Forever hearing others. Knowing how they truly feel. Not to be lied to. I used to think that my talent was a horrible gift from the high heaven to curse my family and me. But then, I met this boy. So scared and lost, yet so surrounded. He couldn't tell his own thought from someone close to him. He loved to be near me, for I shielded my thoughts from him. So he didn't have to hear me.  
  
And now I look at him. He has changed so much. I hear his body shift ever so slightly on the couch. I wonder for a brief second what he might be doing. My question is soon answered as a head falls within my lap. I look down at it. He faces the television. He is murmuring something softly. Something I strain to hear. But in the end, I fail to catch it.  
  
He sits up, looking at me fully now.  
  
~How do you express to someone that you love them, Bradley?~  
  
It startled me. Hearing his voice in my head. I will never get over the almost painful experience.  
  
"You don't," I state plainly, pressing my glasses further up my nose, so I can see him fully without having anything from his soft featured face taken away by years of horrible eyesight.  
  
~What if you want them to know?~ He sounds desperate. Who is he talking about? If only I was a telepath. Sometimes I envy him. He is able to read someone's mind. Able to see their deepest desire and pull it forward. Able to pull their deepest fear out into the open and make it practically fuck you. My language is getting crude now isn't it?  
  
I shake my head, "Why would you want to?"  
  
"Because," He replies in his thick, accented voice. He's speaking in English, making it sound more like 'bekkos' instead of 'because'. I smirk at him faintly.  
  
"Then just flat out tell them," I say stubbornly. His eyes darken with something. I wonder now, who has caught the German's love. He rarely finds love within any of his little 'games', but maybe this might be different. I certainly do not wish to see his feelings hurt. Not again. I could not stand for him to cry like he once did.  
  
He tends to become suicidal whenever something that traumatic happens to him. I had barely found him before it was to late the last time he attempted. I found him in the bathtub stained in red. His body, completely pale from loss of blood, was propped against the corner in the shower. He had sliced from his wrist up in a ragged line towards his elbows, wrapped around there and came back down on either of his limps. He had sliced at his ankle, trailing a way up in the same fashion towards his knee.  
  
He had used a knife. One of Farfarello's, I am sure. I, though, am not sure if Farfarello had lent it to Schuldig or not. Either way, I did everything in my power to never have the white-haired, scarred man lend Schuldig a sharp object again. Though it's not like it would truly stop Schuldig from borrowing again, now would it?  
  
I close my eyes, wondering what the German is really after. I do not enjoy this quiet mellow man who sits with me on this couch. I would normally bask in the quietness. But, Schuldig never has the luxury to experience the quiet. A tremor within me again. I truly detest pitying someone. It makes them appear lower then even I am.  
  
"What if you've never spoken to them?" I hate these questions. There is something hidden within them that I cannot see. I cannot stand this. It's too unnatural. I have no power over anything. I don't know what is coming. And that, I have to admit, is what is scaring me. That I don't know what the outcome might be. Could the beautiful German be talking about me? Or is he talking about someone else?  
  
I had made sure not to put down Schuldig for his life style, though I highly dislike it.  
  
I shrug at his question, not sure what he wants me to say. He looks down, unsure of himself. He quickly stands up, looking at me fully, "G'night, Crawford. Hope you have a more pleasant sleep tonight then you did last night." He's using Japanese, his accent rushing through the words, making it almost hard to understand. Almost. I have learned to understand him. He leaves, just like that, leaving me to wonder if he knew any more of my horrible nightmares of other people's futures. Their deaths. How painful it must be for each and everyone.  
  
I knew both sides of the story of death. Both of them. From the killers, to the killed.  
  
I watch him leave. He disappears from my view. But my eyes still remain. Wishing for him to walk back out, and tell me that he has something for me, something more than this almost friendship in which we douse ourselves with.  
  
_________________________________  
  
Continued?  
  
WAHH! 'Tis my first fic in Weiss Kreuz!! Tell me what you think. I'm unsure what to really make of it myself. 0o; Hopefully, I might make it big or something. ^^; Hope they weren't to out of character.  
  
AND I'm going to allow you to choose who Schu's in love with. 'Cause I'm not too sure myself. So it's whoever you want it to be. HAHA!! 


	2. The sequel everyone asked for!

Disclaimer: *twitches again* I wish I did own... but er... don't.  
  
Time Frame: Uh... sometimes after the last chaper..?  
  
Note: I honestly did not intend to continue this. One of the reasons in the orginal it said Owari at the end. But i guess I'm a hypacrite arn't I?  
  
--Past things--  
  
~Thought speak~  
  
"Regular.."  
  
Something Like Love...P2  
  
___________________________  
  
I sit and wonder if he is going to inform me on who is the person who has captured his heart. He hasn't said anything once so ever as to who he wishes to share his feelings with. I almost hurts sometimes now. Only sometimes though. But now. Right now. It doesn't hurt. Won't hurt. No because this is not the time to feel pain. When you are infront of people. People who know you. And can read you completly.  
  
You have to hide how you feel. He's watching television again. It almost rots his brain out. He becomes vacent and unknown to everyone. Because he is absorbed into his own being. Being himself. Who ever his self is. Which ever. Not that it really matters.  
  
I sit in the chair off to the side. Off with a book. A perfectly normal look. Trying to be a normal person. If there is such a thing as being in the normal world for someone like me. Someone like all of us. Here in this house. Everyone trys to be normal, well for the most part.  
  
Farfarello is in his room. Locked up for the night. To sleep. How inhumain to have to have a person dangle from the ceiling so you might be able to wake up with your body unmutilated. Nagi, alone with his text books. Trying to catch up on the homework in which he desires to complet. Though, I know that tiredness will over take him. And he will crawl into his awaiting bed and close his eyes, only to be attacked by the nightmares in which only an assasin can have. Blood death and gore.  
  
And the one who has just... just makes you quistion yourself completly. Can he be hearing my pitiful thoughts now? Is he even listening to anything?  
  
I wonder day in and day out who the German was talking of when he asked that quistion that I never answered for him. I should have answered. But that would be saying that... I might know what he was takling about. But is that even possible that I would know? I mean truely?  
  
-- "What if you've never spoken to them?" -- So waht if you've never spoken to them. Does that truely change the idea? I'm staring at him. I know. My thoughts are running wild within my small little shell I try to call as a identity.  
  
He sits. Leg crossed over the thigh. Head cocked to the side with the show raceing on his eyes. Reflecting it back to the speakers. Hand out streached next to him. Slouched over slightly to the side. It looks rediculious the way he is sitting. Completly rediculious. And so him. He can't see. His eyes are closed. I can tell that much. He's thinking. Either what he is thinking or what others are thinking. Maybe what might be running threw my own mind...? Maybe... maybe not.  
  
Hopeless thoughts race threw my mind. Little things. What am I suppose to do tomarrow? What will happen. When will I know what will happen? Who is Schuldig thinking of? Is it me? I almost wish it is. I almost wish it was me who he was talking about then. When he asked me how to inform someone that you are inlove with them and wish to share your world with them. No matter how awful and disgusting it is.  
  
He turns to me now. I wonder if my small thoughts caught his attention... I avert my gaze again.  
  
Towards this book. Something that I am not truely intrested in right now.  
  
He speaks in soft German, feeling uncomfortable in other languages? He said once he hates speaking in other languages. They don't sound right coming from his mouth. He hates English the most. And he's told me several times that he dispises it when I use it around him. I almost don't catch what he says... its almost to soft for words to be spoken at. Almost inaudable. "Do you really want to know..?"  
  
I press my glasses higher on my nose leaning back and glanceing at my book again. He sits up again and looks towards me. Strangely enough I remember this from a dream. I am used to the deja-vu series. They happen to me almost all the time. I don't remember recording this in my book though.(1)  
  
His skin is pale and blue and yellow from the lights picking up its pale coloration. Hard cold eyes jutting towards me. Almost glaring. I give him this calm cold look like I normally will to anyone. I wonder if he would tell me. But I am not to sure if he will or not. His hair falls over his shoulders in a mismatched fasion. No bandanna. No glasses. Just red/orange hair falling limply over his shoulder.  
  
"Do you..?"  
  
"Would you tell me?"  
  
~What do you think?~  
  
I shrug slightly and look back at my book. Something hurts. Something sitting at the bottem of my heart. And I don't know what it may be. Nor do I wish to know. I hear the fhss sound coming from the couch as he stands. He pads towards the doorframe, leaving the television on to talk. To noise circleating around the room. Makeing it not quit so dead in this room. He stops though. Softly looking towards me. And I know what he's going to say. I can almost read his mind.  
  
I wonder if he is doing that for me. Makeing me be able to almost know what he's about to say. He looks towards me. One soft expression claiming his face. So soft and scared. So unalone and alone all at once. Like no one knew what he wanted more than anything. He sighs and says it. In english. Just to complet the ideal that he ment what he says...  
  
"You."  
  
And then I open my eyes to stare at the ceiling. Vaguely making out anything but white. I reach over and grab my glasses, sitting up and looking about. A dream. A simple hopeful dream that might never come true.  
  
____________________________- Owari...?  
  
(1) He keeps a dream book.... *shrugs* just seems like something that Brad would do.  
  
Er... yeah... didn't really intend on going on with this, but I got so many good reviews asking for it to be BradxSchu that well.. ^_^ I decided I was going to continue. Though Brad wasn't working with me, but it'll do.  
  
Thank you to my beta-reader, Ryuke! *does a little dance* 


End file.
